Days Going By
by FluffDucklings
Summary: Arthur is transgender. And that's about the only thing interesting about him.
1. Chapter 1

**Note**: So, about two years ago I uploaded a story called Days of Our Lives. It was going to be about Arthur Kirkland and how he lives as a transgender boy at school and as a biological girl at home, but I never could get it to work. Well, I promised a few people I'd write it over that summer and then two years passed. Whoops. Well, now I've started a new series still based on transgender Arthur Kirkland. He's a teenager and he's pre-operation. This series, instead of being a novel-type, will be a bunch of one-shots all dealing with different events in his life.

If anyone has any input, I graciously offer you to tell me. If something is considered offensive, please tell me! If I've misunderstood/mis-written a topic, please tell me! If you want to see something about this Arthur, please tell me!

I don't have any experience being a trans person. I'm cis so I don't have intimate knowledge. I just want to write something that's been on my mind for over two years. And I hope that I do the trans community justice with it.

Also, for this chapter, Arthur is having his period. Every female has different experiences with their periods. Some people just have bloating, some have crippling cramps. Either way, it is different for every person who gets them. Some people take over the counter/prescription medicine, some go a more organic route with teas and herbs, and some go down the surgical route. Please keep that in mind.

I don't own Hetalia.

**With all that behind us, I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters!**

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><p>Arthur Kirkland stared up at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. It had been painted a dark blue just recently and the heavy curtain over the window let in no light. A tiny pinprick light from the television's power button gnawed at his eyelids as he tried to ignore it and fall asleep.<p>

It was quiet and calm. Yet, Arthur could not fall asleep.

A twinging in his stomach, almost like he had when he was feeling anxious or stressed, was constantly gurgling in his gut and had been for the last hour.

On his back, Arthur kneaded his stomach, rolling his knuckles over his navel and down towards the space in between where his hips jutted out and his body was concave. His hips ached him. And gravity wasn't fairing on him so well at that moment. But, rolling over caused his nausea to rise back up into his throat and he didn't have the energy to even attempt running for the bathroom. He tried taking deep, long breaths, but the movement became annoying and it upset his nausea as well.

Glancing sideways at the illuminated analog clock hanging on his wall beside his beg, Arthur did a little math and decided to reach over to the little pill bottle on his bedside table; just some aspirin to help him fall asleep. He took a swig from his glass of water and downed two small white tablets.

Arthur rolled on his side, finally, fighting off the uncomfortable feelings riling inside of him and tried once more to fall asleep.

When he woke, he felt much the same as the night before. He knew that when he stood, he'd only magnify those pains, but he had school and he couldn't be late.

With a sigh, Arthur slid his legs over the edge of the bed and, tightening the muscles down near his crotch, he hurried himself to the bathroom, flinging off his sleep pants and stood in the tub.

He could feel it moving down him, from the inside, before it slid down his leg, clumpy and sticky and smelling of iron. The smell made him gag and he turned the shower head on, letting the hot water wash over his skin. He angled himself so that it hit his stomach. It burned at first and it turned his skin into a bright, nasty red, but the ache he'd felt since falling asleep that night disappeared, if only temporarily.

His legs wobbled as his gut gurgled and he hurried to wash his hair and body before they gave out. The same mad dash was made back to his bedroom and an old pair of underwear was dug out from his dresser drawers. A package of pads was stuffed next to them and he grabbed one, fiddling with the package and sticking it on the worn cloth before shoving them over his legs. Arthur's stomach was rolling now. His movements upset it and he couldn't help that. He took another two aspirin and finished dressing for school.

It will be years, Arthur reminds himself. It will be years before he can finally be who he wants to be. Who he really is.

It will be years of more menstrual cycles and biweekly haircuts and even awkward clothes shopping before he can finally, truly show everyone who he really is.

Arthur steps onto the yellow school bus that takes him to the private school his mother pays for. He glides past the other students, not nearly as riley as their public school counterparts and sits in an empty seat in the middle of the chaos.

A girl is sitting in front of him, her hair long and braided neatly. Her collar is straight and that's all he can see of her. She has a high-pitched voice, but speaks softly to the girl sitting next to her. They giggle and Arthur see's her manicured hand point a glossy nail at a boy three rows ahead of them. They giggle again.

Arthur looks down at his lap. The pad in his underwear makes his bottom feel squishy and it's uncomfortable, but it's better than using tampons in his opinion. He kneads his stomach with his knuckles and watches out the window until they arrive at school.

From there, Arthur is just another uniform and lanyard in the hall, carrying his books and trying to ignore the squashy-ness in his pants as he walks - fighting the urge to smooth his behind over to make sure the pad hasn't bunched up any so others don't see.

The temp in third period stumbles over his name. The school hasn't changed it yet, and she almost says it, but catches herself and asks if there are any Arthurs in the room. A few students chuckle, but they're used to temps messing up his name. They've had time to adjust.

Arthur skips lunch and heads for the bathroom. He spends the entire half hour with his pants at his ankles as he sits on a toilet. He'd forgotten an extra pad and so he tries his best to clean the one he's been using, wiping at it with toilet paper until the blood's dried.

The bus ride home shakes up his stomach and makes him nauseous again. He makes it inside with enough time to not crack his knees on the bathroom tile as he plunges his head into the basin. The crackers he'd eaten during sixth are now floating in a soggy, bubbly mess along with the bile.

Arthur runs a bath and sinks in, folding a wash cloth to sit on his stomach and then on his hips and over his crotch as each spot's aches lessen. The bath water is a pink color when he drains it. He forehead is sweaty and his head his foggy from the steam. His entire body is flushed and he wobbles to his bedroom to reapply a pad.

Mother is home. She's cooking and the smell on any other day would have Arthur ravenous, but right now he feels ill just thinking of the ground beef sizzling in the pan. But, Mother knows that he's not going to eat and she's already prepared a cup of strong chamomile tea with a bit of honey. The cup is hot and Arthur takes it gladly as he lies in bed. He rests it gently on his stomach and gulps it down, burning his tongue a few times.

Arthur lays in bed for a few more hours, reading and doing homework and finally, when he cannot keep his eyes open any longer, Arthur takes a final aspirin to stave off the cramps so he can get a full night's sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Children, to me, don't see gender. They are new; they are innocent. They know only what they perceive from their young experiences. Children don't see a gender and see they can only have this or do that. They don't see gender and see that they can only love the opposite.

And parents, they are old and they are too experienced to have their childhood innocence. They don't know what they see; they only see what they know.

I don't own Hetalia. (I'm going to try and update every Monday. Or at least every other Monday. But, don't hold your breath. You'd probably die.)

**I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters!**

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><p>Little Arthur went to Sunday school every Sunday with his Mother and Gram. As soon as Morning Prayer was over, he was sent off with the other children to a smaller room to study lessons in a more appropriate environment.<p>

The Sunday Teacher, Missus Lily, was very nice and sometimes had trouble making the rowdy kids settle down and read their passages. She never had to deal with him like that, Arthur thought to himself smugly.

Every Sunday, while Arthur sat in a tiny plastic chair and read to himself from the Bible, he would slip his shoes off and rub his toes together, feeling as the tiny hose on his legs slid over them. The hosiery didn't feel bad, it was soft and smooth and made Arthur's legs feel nice, but the itchy dress Mother stuffed him in every Sunday didn't feel as nice. It was stiff and starchy and the ruffle underneath was made by the Devil's hand.

The other little boys didn't have to wear dresses, Arthur saw. Every Sunday, Arthur saw them in jeans and T-shirts. But all the girls had to wear dresses. It wasn't very fair that Arthur was the only boy who had to wear a dress.

On Sunday mornings, before Sunday school, Arthur always tried to wear jeans and T-shirts, but Mother always foiled his plans.

Arthur would lay jeans out and a nice shirt on his bed, like his Mother did the night before on school nights, but it never fooled her.

"But the other boys don't have to wear dresses, Mom!"

"I don't care what the boys do, honey. Grammy got you this dress and you're going to wear it for her."

And then Rose would zip up the back of the unholy dress and Arthur would stomp out to the car, hearing his mother call out to him, "Don't stomp your feet, Emily!"

One Sunday night, as they ate their special Sunday supper, Arthur turned to his Gram and said, "I don't like the dress you got me. I hate it."

He got a whipping and was sent to his bed in tears. And next Sunday, Arthur found a new dress lying at the foot of his bed – this one wasn't nearly as itchy as the other.

Rubbing his toes together, Arthur turned the last page of the assignment and read quickly. The kids always got out after the adults and the sooner he got done reading, the sooner he could get out of that dumb dress.

When he found his Mother and Gram waiting in the hall after Missus Lily let them out, Mother took his hand and asked what he learned that day, just like she did every Sunday.

"I read about Mary and the baby Jesus and the Manger." Arthur crinkled his nose. Farm animals were dirty and smelly. His Uncle Scott's farm was exactly the same. Arthur told his mother such.

Mother laughed when she saw Arthur's nose. "The animals didn't bother Mary. They kept her and baby Jesus safe and warm during the night."

"That's gross."

"I seem to remember a certain fat cat cuddled up with you during nap time, sweetie."

"That's different, Mom! Cat's don't smell!"

Mother buckled Arthur into the car and shut the door for Gram and then they were off. They stopped for ice cream on the way home and Arthur got an extra scoop on his cone from the old man behind the counter after he said that he looked like a lovely little girl.

Arthur frowned at the old man, but he hadn't been looking. He was talking to Gram now, but Arthur continued to glare at him. On the way out the door, he flicked the second scoop of ice cream onto the floor.

At home, Arthur played with his cars in his jeans and a T-shirt. The dolls his other Gram in Devon got him were playing as the drivers of the tiny cars. Right now, Arthur was playing NASCAR and was spinning on his knees as he raced the car around the imaginary track. Soon, he got too dizzy and let the car go and watched as it slid into the baseboard of the closest wall. Arthur made a loud explosion noise and flung himself onto his back, grabbing the Barbie doll that was the car's driver and throwing her across the room.

Arthur watched the room spin as he caught his breath. He yawned once, and then twice, and soon, he could barely keep his eyes open. His bed awaited him and Arthur crawled under the purple blankets with the Minnie Mouse sheets and snuggled up to the blue, felt rabbit he'd had since he was a baby.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: Not my favourite one, but it was finished so...

I don't own Hetalia.

**I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters!**

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><p>Arthur's first kiss was from Mathilda Williams. She was shy and timid and always wore bright red dresses with barrettes in her hair. It had been on the track around the football field while they practiced sprinting for an upcoming race.<p>

Mathilda was wearing her running shorts and a sports bra and Arthur was in his shorts and a loose shirt. Mathilda was new and she didn't know.

After finishing sprints, Arthur had collapsed down beside Mathilda, who'd been a few seconds faster than him. He drank from his water bottle and the two cooled off for a few minutes. Then Mathilda leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

The kiss scared Arthur. He'd never had one before that wasn't from his Mother or his Gram. And, the kiss wasn't bad. Mathilda's breath didn't smell or anything, but, he just didn't like Mathilda. And… Mathilda was new! She didn't know!

"I'm not a girl," Arthur blurted out, even before Mathilda could lean away.

The shy blonde girl looked stunned.

"I'm a guy."

Mathilda stuttered and stumbled over her words. "I-I'm so sorry! I- I didn't know!"

"It's okay."

"I'm so sorry!" Mathilda cried and she buried her head in her knees.

Arthur felt bad. Mathilda was nice and shy and he'd never even seen her talking with anybody else besides him and her sister. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to comfort her.

"It's okay, Mathilda. You didn't know."

"I-It's just, I thought you were! And, back at my old school, I had a friend and we used to be more than friends, and I miss her! I'm so sorry!"

"Hey, now! It's alright. I'm not mad. You don't have to cry." Arthur rubbed Mathilda's back for a few minutes – making a circular motion to sooth and calm her. "Is that why you and your sister transferred in the middle of the year?"

Mathilda sniffed loudly and scrubbed her face. She nodded and made use of her hands by tightening her ponytail and barrettes. "Some kids found out about Gertrude and I and they were horrible! So Mom took Amy and I here." She sniffed again and scrubbed her face some more.

"Well," Arthur said a bit awkwardly. He wasn't very good at comforting crying people. He tended to try and avoid them as best he could. "The people at this school are pretty accepting. At least, they have been of me. I mean, yeah, there's a couple of idiots who says things in the hall, but mostly everyone just doesn't even care." Arthur leaned in a little with a smile on his face. "I've even had a popular girl come and try and 'recruit' me to be her best friend. She said something about always wanting a GBFF." Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not exactly sure what that means, but it sounded rude, so I told her to piss off." He chuckled to himself and to his relief, so did Mathilda.

"So are you all better? No more crying? It was an accident. You didn't know, but now you do." Arthur stuck out his hand. "I'm Arthur, by the way. You must not have caught my name if you thought I was a girl."

Mathilda took his hand and they shook. "I think it's says something about me: not knowing the names of my teammates," Mathilda said with a thoughtful look. "You should see my sister though! She forgets _my_ name sometimes!" She laughed quietly and smiled at Arthur. "You should meet her sometime."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note**: Little Arthur is so freaking cute.

I don't own Hetalia.

**I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters!**

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><p>"Who's Arthur, honey?"<p>

Arthur looked up from his dolls and cars. He was playing NASCAR again and Malibu Barbie was a three-time Gold Cup winner and this was her last race before she was going to retire in her big mansion that was set up in the corner by the window.

Mother was holding a few test papers and on the name line, Arthur had written his name instead of Emily. He forgot to do that sometimes, but the teacher always knew who the test belonged to so he didn't really bother with it.

"Me." Arthur went back to twirling in a circle on his knees, racing Barbie to a fourth championship title.

"Your name's Emily, honey. Not Arthur."

"No it's not," Arthur said simply. He didn't even look up from his cars.

"Yes it is. That's what I named you."

"Well, I didn't like that name. Arthur sounds better. Not as girly."

"Why is Emily too girly, honey?"

Mother was crouched down on her heels and she put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, stopping his twirling so he had to look up at her.

"'Cause I'm a boy. And I don't want a girly name."

Mother looked at Arthur quietly for a long time and Arthur started to feel queasy in his stomach. His mother only looked at him like that without saying anything when she was angry. Like, after Arthur had tracked mud into the house and on the carpet in the living room.

"My tummy hurts, Mommy."

"Emily…"

"My name's Arthur."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Arthur shrugged. "My tummy feels weird, Mommy."

"Why do you think you're a boy, Emily?"

"I don't know. I just _know_. Why?"

Mother stared silently some more and Arthur's stomach churned viciously. He squirmed on the floor and pressed a hand to his gut. He didn't like being in trouble.

"Am I in trouble?"

Mother startled. "No! No, honey." She sniffed and her eyes watered up some, even though she never ended up crying, and she wrapped Arthur up into a big hug. "You're not in trouble, at all."


End file.
